I have a Glass Jaw
by PlushiePhone-x
Summary: That m-monster... I see him e-every time I look at my daughter's p-purple skin... H-Hannah, you're not Jeremy's regrets...y-you'll never be my regrets. M for dark themes and several mentions of rape.


**Hello everyone! ^^ This is a spinoff from my friend KuraiFriend's "I'm a Glass Child." fic. Instead of this story being in Hannah's perspective, it's now in Jeremy's P.O.V. I think some of you peeps have read Kurai's note about this, so here you go! This will be a series, too.**

 **VERY IMPORTANT NOTE!: This is set in a world where men and women can both get pregnant. THIS IS NOT M!PREG, but it will be implied at least a few times. The inhabitants of this world find nothing abnormal about it.**

* * *

Oh, Hannah... I wish you would believe me when I say I love you.

I don't know how else to make it clear! You're my little girl… My _only_ little girl. And if you came from that… One.. Night.. That doesn't stop me from loving you!

Those evenings that I run off to my room just by looking at you aren't at all your fault.

You can't help how much you look like… _Him_.

But I'm worried about you, Hannah. You're not acting like the other girls your age, or even the boys. Sometimes, I wonder if that is _my_ fault...

That's why I took you and Jasmine to the park today.

I needed to talk to someone. And you never get a chance to go there anymore, and of course I was going to bring your friend; I'll take her whenever I can. Her parents are such horrible people-but you don't need to hear that.

"Look," I hear Jasmine say to you in her ever-so-quiet voice. My eyes glance over to where she is pointing, in front of my old work place. It doesn't take me long to find what she's looking at. _He_ is standing outside; a tall, purple figure of nightmares still working at the location. "He kind of looks like you."

Please don't remind me…

"He's my favorite color!" Hannah exclaims, as if it deserves some kind of prize. Oh, Hannah. Why _that_ color?

It didn't take long to get to this park as I thought it would. Traffic was pretty decent and we made it here in about ten minutes. "W-wait! Hannah, c-come back!" I called to you as you flew off to play without a care in the world.

When you came running back, my arms latched on your waist and I lift you high up in the air. You let such a beautiful laughter and shouted, "Weee!" All I could do was smile.

Jasmine didn't seem so happy, though. She was always such a sweetheart, so nervous around other people…

"Where's your friend?" she asks so quietly that even I have to strain my ears to hear her.

I noticed another tall figure coming from behind Jasmine;

I was scared that figure would be _him_ , snatching the poor, fragile, child out of my reach.

I look up warily, and then what I see relieves me a lot. It was Mike, my long-time friend.

He picks up the shy girl and I hear her whimper. _She doesn't like that…_

"Here I am!" The tall brunette says, lifting Jasmine up to his chest. "H-hi Mike." I smile at the muscular man, who looks back at me and Hannah with a grin on his face.

"Hey Jere. Hey Hannah." Mike takes another glance at Jasmine, who is clearly scared of him. "Who's this kiddo?" he says with a chuckle.

I look down at Hannah, who notices the fear in her friend's violet eyes. "That's Jasmine. A-and she doesn't like people, s-so you better put her down."

Mike laughs a bit again, "My bad." The tall male puts her back on the ground again.

I do the same with my Hannah, and then I see Jasmine running over to my direction, and then watch as she hides behind me, as she always does when we're around strangers. I bend down a little, looking at her. "I-it's okay, Jass. That's m-my friend." I whisper calmly.

I hear Hannah say, "His name's Uncle Mike." I notice the pride she has over that.

 _Oh, Hannah. Always so proud of what you have and done._

Jasmine pushes a bang away from her pretty eyes. "Uncle Mike?"

I see the said man crouching beside my daughter. "You can call me that, if you want."

Jasmine smiles.

The dark-haired male stands up and looks at me. "What did you need to talk about?" he says, returning to his serious self.

I gaze down at the two children who are already having fun playing their 'hand games'.

Sighing, I try and manage to lure them away. "G-go and play on the sw-swings, please H-hannah."

Hannah nods and both her and Jasmine run for the playground.

Mike and I watch them for a moment, then we turn back to ourselves. "I h-have to talk t-to you about h-how Hannah is acting t-these d-days.." The overwhelming sadness and fear in me is rising as I speak.

The taller male only walked over a park bench and sat down. _Here it goes…_

"Mike, I-I don't k-know what's wrong w-with her…" I began, already trembling. "-I-I c-can't help but think ab-bout that night w-when I l-look at h-her…" My voice cracks from all my darkest feelings. "-I th-think she's t-turning into a ps-psychopath. Wh-what if sh-she e-end u-up lik-ke _him_?!"

I became teary-eyed, and the only thing I could do was cry in my friend's arms.

 _What have I done?_

A few seconds later, I feel the grasp of small arms reaching my waist and that startles me. _Not now, please. Not now._ I bury myself deeper into Mike's chest.

"Hey, Hannah." Mike's calm voice reassures me. "Your dad's okay. He just needs some time alone right now."

I hear more little footsteps approaching the bench, and the grasp of Hannah's little arms lets me go. "But what about you?" Jasmine was near, too.

"Time alone with me." Mike's voice seems a little stern.

"Oh." The much smaller voice coos sadly. _I'm sorry, Hannah. I can't deal with all this pain. Please forgive me._

Mike repeats himself, but with a scolding tone towards my daughter, "Hannah," He pauses shortly. "Go to the slide."

Both kids are silent, and I hear the footsteps turning away from us. They stop. "I have to go to the bathroom." Jasmine says, with her gentle and whispering voice.

"Then go. It's right behind us." The man says, softening.

The girls are leaving, though I'm not sure. The male in which I am wrapped in sighs. "They're gone now, Jere. What'd she do?" He says calmly.

I take my time to sit back into a comfortable position. I look up into the two icy pools of water, waiting for a sign of encouragement. Mike nods his head.

I'm not ready, but I begin anyway, with which terrify me the most.

"It's th-things she s-says, lik-ke w-when w-we're watching a h-horror movie, sh-she cheers o-on the monster a-and giggle a-at it g-gutting people; I-I haven't let her watch one i-in forever b-but she st-still says th-things that s-sound like they sh-should be fr-from one o-of the m-movies I-I've hid away!"

Mike's ignorance has shown again. "That's just kids Jere. They do things like that. It's weird, but normal."

I raise my voice, trying to sound the most serious, "But i-it's not just words! S-sometimes, I w-wake in the m-middle of the n-night of the n-night to f-find her i-in the k-kitchen stab-bing s-something.. I don't-t even know h-how she c-can reach th-the knives-s!"

My voice is cracking. I need to cry. I can't tolerate this fear, this pain. I can't.. "A-and her gifts!- oh _god_ her g-gifts! I-I h-have to forc-ce mys-self not t-to puk-ke in fr-front of h-her!"

"I didn't know macaroni art could be that bad." Again; ignorance.

I try to use one of my best glares to send in the tall man's direction. "M-Mike. This is _serious_." I whisper. Thankfully my tears have stopped running down my cheeks. I don't want to cry like a child anymore.

I continue, though it hurts to say it. But it's the truth. It's reality. "H-her art-twork is g-grotesque , b-but-t not-t as b-bad as-s th-the g-gifts… She brings me dead birds, Mike! W-What kind of seven-year-old g-gives her dad dead birds?!"

 _Why me?_

"...Did you try telling her it was wrong?"

"All the t-time, but-t i-it doesn't h-help! W-what am I-I doing wr-wrong?! Oh no, no.. M-maybe sh-she doesn't deserve m-me as a fath-ther.."

 _Why her?_

"Jeremy. Listen." Mike startled me as he banged his fist on the picnic table. He gave me one of his powerful ice cold stares. "Don't say that. You _are_ a very good father. An amazing person. I'm here for you, Jere.. Hannah loves you, no doubt.

I see her, how she looks at you, whenever I'm with you guys. She loves you, okay? She does."

His monotone voice disappeared near the end of his speech, a hint of sadness coming along with it.

 _How does she look at me? Is she proud to have me as her dad?_

 _Are you, Hannah?_

I sigh with frustration, but the man is right. Still, there's so much I want be fixed in Hannah.. I don't want her to end up like the monster I once met. _Him_. "M-Mike, sh-she rips a-and sticks h-her barbie-bie doll heads i-in pots o-of vinegar-gar to dissol-olve them! Is tha-that playing sa-safe f-for a ch-child's mind?!"

"No… I don't think so… Jeremy, what do you want to do about this?" The blue-eyed male put his hand on his chin, trying to find a way to calm his stress.

"I d-don't know… I-I d-don't know what t-to do!" I bury my face in my own arms this time, at the point of giving up.

"Don't worry, Jere-bear. We'll find a way for her. Don't worry." Mike gently reached out to touch my head, rubbing my hair reassuringly.

 _I'm not worrying, who said I was worrying? I can't worry anymore. I worry too much, so I guess I can't do it no more._

 _Why?_

 _Because I'm broken. She's broken… But she's still my child. I have to push a little more, I'm gonna do it for her. I don't want Hannah to turn out like that purple beast. I'm going to try; Mike is going to try. Everyone is going to try._

 _Hannah is my little girl, and nothing is going to put us apart._


End file.
